


Headspace

by ozomin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Marijuana, Shotgunning, slight sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:05:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9885764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozomin/pseuds/ozomin
Summary: Jongdae and Yixing get high at midday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i want to start writing more shorter pieces since im more busy with school these days.  
> once again i miss xingdae  
> enjoy!

Jongdae chuckles bright and warm. It fills the mid day room, bothers to sound peaky in Yixing's ears, tinny even.

With no schedules for the day and minimal interference from management or other members alike until evening, Jongdae finds himself peeling away each button of his shirt, funny it didn't feel that scratchy when he put it on this morning, as Yixing rolls brown paper blunts.

Jongdae itches at his temple, licks his lips, the off white walls have taken on a rather dizzying pattern that they didn't have twenty minutes ago. He narrows his eyes, it looks like dancing circles, blinking in and out of existence right in front of him.

It's funny.

So Jongdae laughs.

He turns his head, glances at the crinkles on the corner's of Yixing's eyes, on the roll in his palm.

He takes it.

The sound of Yixing flicking on the lighter reminds him of when he clucks his tongue when he sees something he disapproves of.

The end begins to smolder, the rising smoke a tangible of the thick scent steadily seeping through the cracked open window.

Yixing pulls it from him with neat fingers, they feel warmer than the stub of the roll.

He sucks in as natural as breathing, a deep almost rattling breath before he pulls Jongdae to him by the nape.

Jongdae lets himself be pulled, Yixing's hand is warm, but not a bad warm.

A good one.

Their lips brush from the impatience, before the smoke is funneled between them.

Like Yixing is breathing air into his lungs.

No doubt does Jongdae feel like he's drowning, the air is clamped down around his ears, hot on his face, smothering like the thick of an ocean current. He's disoriented, tides turning him over and over until the only thing he recognizes is Yixing's face, his tired eyes, his bright eyes.

The sun reflecting, signalling the surface.

Jongdae breathes it in, like a he's just been released from a chokehold. Yixing's hands go slack, fingers twitching idly against his own thigh, knock against Jongdae's hand that's bracing him for support at the sudden angle. 

As if Yixing is the sun, Jongdae leans forward, swims to the surface, over and over. Maybe he'll never reach the surface and he'll just drown down here in heavy water, beneath heady smoke.

Yixing's lips are light and electric all at once, Jongdae doesn't know the difference between the plume of smoke and Yixing's mouth anymore. What he does know is that the sounds Yixing is making are suspiciously good representations of the incoherent thoughts dissipating through his barren mind landscape. 

He's got one hand down the front of Yixing's pants, but he's soft. Jongdae licks into Yixing's mouth, a subconscious messy attempt at alleviating the dry taste in his mouth. Yixing shuts his eyes, lids falling slow, somehow he can still see the glow of the stub. What's left is still wedged between his fore and middle finger. Jongdae's fingers trace down his forearm before he slips it away with dainty fingers. 

He sits up and pulls his hand out of Yixing's pants in one languid motion. Jongdae hovers over Yixing, a lazy straddle above one of Yixing's thighs. The rub of his cock against his jeans and Yixing's thigh is unexpectedly good, it registers like a faint spark down his spine so keeps doing it. 

Jongdae takes a slow pull, lets the smoke drift out from between his lips unhindered, a slow flow of fog around the tips of sky reaching pine. All the while, his mouth going slack as his cock gains more and more feeling. 

Yixing stares up at him with heavy lidded eyes and fingers that play with the little denim belt loops on the side of Jongdae's jeans. He pulls each one until the reaches the middle, pace slow enough Jongdae can match him with an inhale of smoke. 

That's as far as they get, Jongdae ruts until the urge falls away, by then the roll is finished, a little curl of paper is all that's left in his fingers. He has enough awareness to abandon the pieces onto the low table next to them. Yixing sits up, nuzzles his nose against Jongdae's throat and tries not to fall asleep. 

He says something, or Jongdae thinks he does, the sentence slips in through one ear and out the other in the space of a second. 

Or a minute. 

Yixing's limbs are unhurried but easy, just like his lips when he mouths at the sweat against Jongdae's jaw. His arms loop loosely around Jongdae's middle.

Jongdae cradles his head, his own eyes getting rather heavy.

He thinks he mentions napping a moment later but regardless they do it anyway.


End file.
